


it's a long shot, but-

by theappleppielifestyle



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 05:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14561511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: “He’s in the dangerous second phase of lovesickness,” Bruce says, straight-faced as Tony twitches behind him. “The third is refusal to eat, which can lead to death by starvation if the condition isn’t rectified immediately.”General Ki growls, the sound coming like static between his oddly-shaped jaw and even odder teeth. “Skri- Stark is an invaluable asset to the empire! This illness must be eradicated immediately, Dr. Banner. What is the cure?”“A mate,” Bruce says, re-adjusting his glasses. “Skri-Stark must be paired with a mate, and soon. If not, he will succumb within several weeks.”(Or, the world has fallen to aliens and Steve and Tony come up with a plan to take it back.)





	it's a long shot, but-

The plan has been in place for months, but there’s still a large part of Tony’s brain that doesn’t think they’ll make it through the first stage.

For one, they’re expecting the Skri-Na, at least the ones populating this base, to be more than a little ignorant about the human body and what it does, and two, they’re banking on the fact that their grudging respect for Dr. Banner is going to be enough for them to take his advice on who to pair off with Tony.

Due to this, he sweats his way through the whole examination, which might be a good thing, because it only adds to what they’re trying to convince the Skri-Na. Bruce raises his eyebrows at him as he bends to check Tony’s heartbeat, the Skri-Na watching suspiciously.

“It’s for show,” Tony mutters, and he catches Bruce roll his eyes as he moves the stethoscope over Tony’s chest.

“Sure, like you aren’t as freaked out as me,” he says, soft enough that Tony barely hears it, and then he’s straightening up and turning to the Skri-Na with a grave expression.

“What are his other symptoms?”

“He has lost his appetite,” one of the alien scientists reports. “He is tired constantly. And he has ceased in making his inventions. He has hardly picked up a pencil for days, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce nods, lips pinched. “It’s as I expected.”

“And?”

“He’s in the dangerous second phase of lovesickness,” Bruce says, straight-faced as Tony twitches behind him. “The third is refusal to eat, which can lead to death by starvation if the condition isn’t rectified immediately.”

General Ki growls, the sound coming like static between his oddly-shaped jaw and even odder teeth. “Skri- Stark is an invaluable asset to the empire! This illness must be eradicated immediately, Dr. Banner. What is the cure?”

“A mate,” Bruce says, re-adjusting his glasses. “Skri-Stark must be paired with a mate, and soon. If not, he will succumb within several weeks.”

On cue, Tony lets out a forlorn sigh, slumping even further over his desk. It’s been a weird few days, faking ‘lovesickness,’ which has pretty much entailed acting depressed and eating less, sighing sadly at the opportune moment. It’s been boring, to tell the truth- Tony has been staring off into space, idly designing things in his head, fighting the urge to turn them into blueprints as his guards glare over at his lack of movement.

“Is it going to be difficult to find Skri-Na a mate,” the scientist asks, cocking his head. “As I understand it, human mates wish to spend a lot of their time together. Skri-Stark does not have much free time.”

“He can spend time with Skri-Stark in the lab,” General Ki says dismissively, and at the scientist’s warning look: “Unless he also has the IQ of Skri-Stark, I assume we are safe. It takes much intelligence to operate any of our technology, and we will watch him at all times. It would be impossible to-”

Bruce coughs, and the two Skri-Na transfer their glare from Tony to him. “I happen to know a perfect mate for Skri-Stark, actually.”

“Name them, Dr. Banner.”

“He works down in the coal mines,” Bruce says. “Steve Rogers?”

“The rebel mongrel,” General Ki allows after a second, and Bruce holds back a wince.

“He has repented for his crimes, General Ki. He is now fully dedicated to expanding and upholding the glory of the Skri-Na empire.”

“You are sure?”

Bruce takes off his glasses, cleans them on his coat, and then puts them on again as Tony wishes like hell Bruce would just  _hurry up and get it over with_  so they could see if they were going to be executed or not.

“He’s Skri-Stark’s previous mate from before the colonization of Earth,” Bruce says finally, and Tony feels the first hopeful twinge as the Skri-Na look at each other with their slate-black eyes, considering.

“And this will cure Skri-Stark,” General Ki asks, eyes falling on Tony, who heaves another heavy sigh over his empty workbench.

“Almost definitely,” Bruce nods. “With near-constant exposure to Skri-Rogers, Skri-Stark should be happy and healthy within another month.”

“A month?”

“It’s a very serious illness,” Bruce says.

Tony lets out another melodramatic sigh, drawing it out until he sees Bruce’s lips twitch before struggling his expression into a blank mask. “I recommend that for the patient’s health, Skri-Rogers should be pulled out of the mines and kept here with Skri-Stark immediately.”

Tony holds his breath as he watches the Skri-Na out of the corner of his eye, trading more glances until General Ki reaches up and wipes a six-fingered hand over his face. “We’ll have Skri-Rogers transferred here before sunset.”

“You’ve made the right choice, General Ki,” Bruce says, and Tony bites down on the inside of his arm to distract himself from the overwhelming relief that is now mingling with anticipation. So they actually pulled off stage one. That doesn’t mean they’re going to even make it to stage two.

 _It’s a long shot_ , he remembers Steve saying.  _But it has to work, or we’re fucked._

It had been the first and last time he ever heard Cap say ‘fucked,’ because the plan had failed just when they were on the brink of winning, and the earth fell to the Skri-Na less than four days later.

Tony hopes that this plan is going to go better, but he’s keeping his expectations low this time around.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He’s heard snippets of what’s happened to Steve, overhearing it from bored guard and then hurried whispers from Bruce whenever they got the chance, but it doesn’t prepare him from seeing the real thing, seeing Steve’s scar ugly and healed white, dissecting his right eyebrow and slicing into his cheek.

Tony saw him get that scar four years ago, in the last battle against the Skri. Steve hadn’t ducked in time and received a full blow to the face. The last time Tony saw him before he got knocked out and woke up with a Skri-Na jabbing him and telling him to make them things was when Steve was bellowing in pain as the poison set into his face, permanently marking him no matter what the serum did to counter-act it.

“You don’t look much better,” are Steve’s greeting words to him, and Tony feels himself smirk.

“Well, they haven’t let me use a mirror in three years after I broke some glass off of one and tried to stab my guard.”

“Did you?”

“Nah, he ducked out of the way and punched me,” Tony sighs. “Which he absolutely should have, for being foolish enough to try and betray the great Skri-Na empire, which I fully devout myself to and regret not joining sooner.”

The last bit is directed loudly at the guards framing the both of them, who grunt, satisfied, once they hear Tony’s follow-up.

Bruce clears his throat next to Tony, and Tony remembers,  _oh_ ,  _right_.

He tries to make an approximation of the fainting girls he’s seen in period movies as he wavers on his feet and then collapses against Steve, whose hands come out to catch him automatically.

“Tony? Are you alright?”

There’s actual concern in Steve’s voice, and Tony cracks one eye open to look up at him- yeah, he’s going to assume that Bruce didn’t get clearance to go down with the Skri-Na to the mines, and that Steve has no idea what the new plan is.

“Skri-Stark has contracted an illness,” General Ki says. “Dr. Banner informed us that you could fix him.”

“What illness?”

“Lovesickness,” General Ki says, and Tony watches Steve’s expression twitch through his one slitted eye.

Steve nods. “Ah,” he says.

“You are familiar with the methods of curing Skri-Stark, Skri-Rogers?”

Steve stares at him, mouth opening just as Bruce cuts in.

“I haven’t been able to discuss Skri-Stark’s condition with Skri-Rogers yet,” he says, smiling up at General Ki, who frowns back down at him. “It is a very rare illness. If you don’t mind, I’d like to brief him on the proper methods alone?”

General Ki snorts. “You will brief him here, Doctor.”

“Of course,” Bruce says, and turns around. “I know you must be overwhelmed with concern, Steve, but please try to pay attention.”

“I’ll try,” Steve says after a beat, and Tony is re-adjusted in his arms so Steve is cradling his head. “I don’t know if I can do it, but I’ll try.”

 _Oh, come on_ , Tony thinks distantly as Bruce continues, “I’ll explain them again after Tony is feeling better, just to be safe.”

“That would be smart.”

Bruce clears his throat. “You’ll need to stay as close to Tony as possible for the time being, lest his symptoms worsen. For the next few weeks, you have to make sure he eats, and that his sleep schedule is regular.”

“Just like old times, then.”

Bruce’s mouth works upwards for a moment. “Yes, Steve.”

“Is that all I need to do?”

“Unless something unexpected happens with Tony, yes.”

“I can do that,” Steve says, and then hastily adds, “I’d be happy to, of course. Overjoyed. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Tony, any contact I have with him is a blessing.”

Tony nearly giggles at ‘blessing,’ but Steve sees it coming and pinches his hip where none of the others can see, so he shuts up.

“Skri-Stark is a vital part of building our new and glorious empire,” General Ki says, stepping up to face Steve, hands folded behind his back. “You will do whatever it takes to make him well enough to work, or else.”

Tony decides it’s his time for a comeback, and he fakes stirring in Steve’s arms, moaning quietly.

“He needs to be left with each other so Skri-Stark can begin his recovery,” Bruce says. “General Ki-”

Tony makes a mental note to name a five star hotel after Bruce when they start rebuilding the human civilization, whenever that is. Not that Tony knows if the currencies are going to be the same anymore when they start. Maybe food will be the trumping currency for a while.

“Take them to the merging room,” General Ki commands, and Tony stiffens in Steve’s arms.

Merging room?

Steve picks Tony up in a bridal carry and Tony lets himself go limp as they’re down a hall Tony’s never been through. He pretends to regain consciousness as they approach the door, and Steve lets Tony down to his feet, where he wobbles dangerously until Steve steadies him.

“The merging room,” one of the guards announces, and opens the door. Tony peeks in- it’s definitely new, and there’s a bed, a real, actual human-made bed in the middle of the room.

“Your- supplies,” the same Skri-Na says, looking confused and slightly disgusted as he hands over a box full of what looks like a surprisingly wide array of human sex toys, lube, condoms, dental dams and the like.

“Thanks,” Steve says when they shuffle the box into his arms. “Uh. Really.”

“We will be monitoring outside,” the guard continues stiffly, and then they turn on their heel and leave, the door unlocked behind them when they close it. Of course.

Steve raises his eyebrows as he tilts the box towards him, surveying the contents. “Huh. They really went all out.”

“Most of them don’t know much about how humans do anything,” Tony supplies, flopping onto his back on the bed and letting out a groan. “Oh, my god. I have been sleeping on the floor for four fucking years. This is heaven.”

“Did they give you a blanket,” Steve asks as he comes to sit next to Tony, setting the box down beside the bed and looking down at him.

“What? Yeah.”

“Then you slept better than me.”

Tony makes a face. “How are the mines treating you?”

Steve wraps a hand around his own knee, rests his chin on it. “Depends if I’ve tried to escape recently.”

“I thought you hadn’t made an attempt for the last two years?”

“I haven’t,” Steve says. “Though it took me long enough to accept I’d need more than the serum to take the earth back. I’ve been playing good little human, but the guards down there don’t trust me, they think I’m trying to escape if I even look at them the wrong way.”

He sighs, and then lies down next to Tony, tipping his face back and closing his eyes. “God.”

“I knoooow,” Tony says, wiggling on top of the mattress. “So good.”

“I thought I’d never get used to sleeping on beds when I got back from the war,” Steve admits, “but when the Skri-Na made me start sleeping on the floor again I couldn’t even do it for a while, I was so used to beds.”

“We did pamper you in the Tower.”

“You did,” Steve says quietly.

There’s a comfortable silence as they both bask in the wonders that is lying on a bed for the first time in years, and Tony breaks it after a few seconds with, “So, the merging room, huh?”

“The Skri-Na are not a subtle species,” Steve points out dryly.

Tony hums in agreement, flattening his hands out and pushing them down into the covers so he can feel the give that he hasn’t felt in far too long.

“How are the others,” Tony asks eventually, because one of them had to bring it up.

“Clint’s still down with me, along with Nat,” Steve answers. “Sometimes one of us sneaks out to check on Thor, but it’s been too risky in the past few months. Last I saw him, they still had him chained up.”

“Sam?”

“They have him working as a teacher to the human kids that get born here.”

“Huh. They must almost be old enough to start school, the oldest ones.”

“They are.”

“Shit,” Tony says softly.

Steve nods. “How are people on your end?”

“Pepper and Rhodey are apparently still in the mines, different sector to yours.”

“Found Happy yet?”

Tony shakes his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s how it is,” Tony says, and the silence stretches.

Their peace is broken when a Skri-Na barges in, standing at attention as she declares, “Dr. Banner has informed us that physical intimacy is essential to the healing process of Skri-Stark. You are not doing this. Commence.”

They both stare at him.

“Commence,” the Skri-Na repeats, hand lowering threateningly to her gun.

“Uh,” Tony says, and awkwardly climbs into Steve’s lap, Steve wrapping his arms hesitantly around Tony’s waist.

The Skri-Na’s hand pauses over her gun. “Dr. Banner suggested physical intimacy heals Skri-Stark faster when clothing is not between the subjects.”

“Okay,” Tony says loudly. “We’ll- do that, but we’re not doing it with you, or anyone else, in the room, okay?”

The Skri-Na glares at them- or, Tony thinks she’s glaring, their eyes kind of make it seem like glaring is just how they look at people. “This is acceptable. Someone will be checking up on you to make sure you’re doing all you can to heal Skri-Stark.”

She gives a curt nod and then leaves, again leaving the door unlocked.

The silence now is less comfortable.

“So,” Steve says.

“So,” Tony echoes. “Is. I mean. Uh.”

“You know, I used to think you were smooth,” Steve says, and Tony shoves him.

“I’m smooth when I’m not being made to get naked by aliens, Steve!”

“If you say so,” Steve says, and Tony opens his mouth to- swear at him, or something, when he spies something over Steve’s shoulder.

“Steve.” His eyes must be as wide as they feel for Steve to look over his shoulder that fast.

Steve’s lips part in surprise, and then longing. “Oh.”

They nearly trip over each other in their haste getting to the shower, and Tony doesn’t even bother stripping out of his clothes, just getting under the nozzle before turning the shower on to hot.

Water starts out cold and Tony doesn’t even care, lets it soak his dirt-caked clothes with a sigh of happiness.

The sound is echoed when Steve gets in beside him, the nozzle obviously designed for group showers like all the ones Tony has seen when they allow him to have one.

“When was the last time you had one of these,” Steve asks after a few moments of watery bliss. He starts peeling off his wet shirt, letting it fall to the ground with a slap. “Sorry,” he adds. “I just thought, since we have to get naked anyway-”

“It’s fine,” Tony assures him. He reaches to start undoing his own shirt. “They let me shower once every couple of weeks, when my stink starts annoying the guards.”

Steve pushes his head into the spray and moans. “Do you think they’ll let us have more if we say we- have a shower kink, or something? That we can only get aroused if we’re in the shower?”

The question shocks Tony so much he chokes on his laugh, easing out of his wet pants so he’s standing in his boxers, which are pretty much see-though in the water. “It’s worth a shot.”

“Thank god,” Steve says, tipping his face up so water runs over his face. “Who thought of this, anyway? Lovesickness?”

“If you haven’t noticed, we’re running out of plans, here,” Tony points out. “Do you think they left us shampoo?”

They look around the room hopefully, but there’s nothing but blank tile and the shower nozzles.

Tony looks over to ask how team morale’s doing, but trails off when he sees Steve’s back. It’s riddled with scars, the same lining and puckering of the scar on Steve’s face, and when Steve turns in the spray, Tony sees that the scars link all the way around his torso. They’re on his legs, too, a few slices of them, there’s one on the heel of his foot, on the back of his neck, crisscrossing the insides of his thighs where his boxers are plastered to the skin.

Steve looks over and catches Tony staring. As Tony jerks his gaze away, Steve says, “I didn’t exactly accept this whole takeover thing easily.”

“You still haven’t,” Tony corrects. “That’s why we’re still fighting.”

He lingers on one of the scars trailing across Steve’s spine, one of the larger, more prominent ones that looks like it’s the most recent.

“I’m going to make sure that never happens again,” Tony says, and it falls out of his mouth before he can stop it.

Steve meets his eyes, surprise fading into fondness. “Thanks, Tony. But I hardly think you’re in a good position to do that right now.”

“I’m in a good position to do something right now,” Tony says lamely, and it’s not even a good innuendo, but Steve laughs.

He laughs until he’s shaking with it, water hitting his shuddering back and streaming down, over the scars.

“God,” he says eventually, gasping. “I haven’t- I haven’t laughed in so long, Tony, you have no idea. I really have missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Tony says, feeling the familiar stir in his chest awaken. Shit. This was another thing he was worried about, besides the plan failing and them being doomed to Skri-Na enslavement forever- he and Steve always has this  _thing_ , before.

They never talked about it to each other, but the whole team knew about it and they barely went a day without one of them tossing in a snide remark about it, about how Steve and Tony spark against each other despite their best intentions, how they have chemistry up to their ears and wouldn’t know how to get rid of it if they tried.

Tony doesn’t know how he feels about that chemistry still being there, but it can only help, right? If they’re going to have to pretend to be- mates, or whatever, then they have to act as couple-y as they possibly can, so chemistry has to help.

“Oh, also,” Steve says, like he’s reading Tony’s mind, “’Mates?’ Really? You guys couldn’t come up with something less-”

“Primitive,” Tony agrees. “That’s why we decided on it. We want them to keep thinking we’re this primitive race who occasionally need mates so they don’t stop eating and die. Bruce is spreading it to wherever he can, getting people to drop it into conversations that will be overheard by Skri-Na so our situation seems more genuine.”

Steve nods. “Well, let’s hope it’s enough to convince them.”

Then his head jerks around, and Tony follows his gaze just in time to see a Skri-Na wandering in to check on them and nodding in approval at their nakedness and then frowning at their lack of closeness.

“We’re doing it,” Tony interrupts as they lower their hand to their gun. He steps over to Steve and wraps his arms around him, arms grazing the old scarring as Steve adjusts himself so he can put his arms around Tony’s shoulders. “See?”

The Skri-Na leaves, and they both drop their arms.

“So,” Steve says, wet hand scratching through his dripping hair. “We have to act like- mates?”

“For the good of humanity,” Tony nods sagely, and Steve huffs another laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

Because Tony has to act like he’s healing, he has to start working slowly, then faster and faster until he’s up to his usual speed. Steve has to remind him quietly, more than a few times, to slow down, at which point Tony starts acting sluggish and the Skri-Na point their guns at Steve, who has to cuddle Tony while still giving him room to move his arms.

This leaves Steve, ninety percent of the time, with his arms hugging Tony’s torso. They drag in a couch for him to lie on so they can both work comfortably, Steve resting his head in Tony’s lap, occasionally freeing one arm up so he can use it to read a book, which they only give him one of. It’s a driving instruction manual and it’s burned around the edges, but Steve insists it’s better than nothing.

Bruce comes down during the first week and tells the Skri-Na that to keep Tony healthy, they have to keep Steve healthy as well, and Steve’s mental state (and hence Tony’s mental state) depends on him seeing his friends at least twice a week.

“He got used to seeing them every day in the mines,” is Bruce’s excuse, and Steve and Tony nods along like their lives depend on it, because hey, they do.

This leads to a wary Natasha, Sam and Clint being brought up to them, getting one hour of every week in a room together as six armed guards stand around them. They couldn’t haggle enough to get Thor allowed access, since he’s still classed as a level five danger and isn’t getting let out of his chains anytime soon.

Since they can’t talk about it, they communicate via morse code, and through that they manage to discuss the plan that Tony and Bruce have been discussing for the past year.

Everyone finds the lovesickness stage hilarious- “I always hoped you two crazy kids would get together,” Clint says solemnly, and at Steve’s warning look, he backtracks: “Uh, waaaay back before you two got together years and years ago.”

 _V smooth_ , Natasha taps out, looking innocently at him, and Clint pinches her wrist.

It’s good, seeing some of the old team back together again. Bruce even argues enough that Tony gets to see Pepper and Rhodey, clinging to them long enough that a guard prods him and tells him to get back to hugging Steve.

Pepper and Rhodey both stare as Tony wraps his arms around Steve and sits on his lap.

“Isn’t it great,” Steve says pointedly, smiling at the both of them. “They let me and Tony stay together on account of his lovesickness.”

“Oh,” Pepper says, lips tugging upwards. She turns her laugh into a cough. “Right! Wow, lucky you!”

“So lucky,” Rhodey nods. “So Steve, how was your sector of the mines?”

“Good, how’s yours?”

“Good.” Rhodey smiles thinly, and Tony wonders how many new scars Rhodey’s hiding under all that dirt.

 

 

 

 

 

For a rebellion, it’s actually pretty boring for a while. Tony works, pretends he’s slower than usual, and grows used to the constant, casual intimacy that gets enforced on Steve and him. They eat the usual meals, get walked back to their ‘merging room’ by guards, who stand outside while they talk idly about what they’re going to do once things go back to normal. They get to meet with people- Natasha and Clint and Sam and sometimes others- which is new, but other than that happening a few hours a week, nothing much happens.

But Tony thinks that even if it was constant explosions, Steve would have the same effect on him. Tony finds himself leaning into Steve’s touches, finds he’s actually working better, feeling better when Steve is around than when he isn’t, which isn’t often.

The Skri-Na are satisfied with Steve basically hugging Tony 24/7 up until the day Bruce is there and talking with Tony, and somehow the subject of kissing comes up and they get interrupted by a nearby guard.

“What is ‘kissing?’”

“Uh,” Bruce says, turning around to face him. “It’s a thing humans do, they press their mouths to another human’s. It’s a gesture of affection.”

“Affection?”

More guards are taking an interest now, and the first guard nods towards Tony. “Would Skri-Stark benefit from this gesture? Would he heal faster?”

“It’s, um.” Bruce coughs. “It’s a particularly potent form of affection, so- yes?”

Tony glares, and Bruce coughs again, putting a hand over his mouth to hide his smile.

The Skri-Na look to Steve expectantly.

“Well,” the first one says, frowning. “You said you would do whatever it takes to heal your mate!”

“Right,” Steve says. “And I will. Uh. It’s just, we usually- it’s like what we do in the merging room?”

Which has been absolutely nothing, but the Skri-Na all recoil when he brings it up. Tony finds himself wondering for the millionth time how the hell their species have sex, or if they have some other way of reproducing.

“Ah,” the Skri-Na says. “It is an intimate act.”

“Not that intimate,” Bruce says. “People do it in public and don’t get stared at.”

Tony steps on his foot. Bruce kicks his ankle. Tony remembers, vaguely, Bruce starting a bet with the other Avengers, years before the invasion, about when Steve and Tony would get together already.

“I have seen humans… kiss, in the mines,” another Skri-Na says carefully. “It is a common act among many of them.”

“So it is not so intimate?”

“Not from what I’ve seen.”

The Skri-Na nods, satisfied. “Then do your duty as Skri-Stark’s mate, Skri-Rogers.”

Tony turns his head to tell Steve he really doesn’t have to, but Steve’s already kissing him when his head is halfway turned. It’s sloppy, their teeth banging together, but then Tony tilts his head and Steve lessens the pressure and it’s- kind of nice. Their mouths move together a few times, Steve’s hand coming hesitantly up to comb through Tony’s hair, having been doing these casually intimate gestures towards Tony for a while now, absentmindedly kissing his shoulder when Tony leans over to get something, or holding Tony’s free hand while they’re eating scraps with the other, rubbing his thumb against Tony’s palm.

They draw back after a while, still close enough that they’d be able to lean in and kiss again if they want to.

“Good,” the Skri-Na says. “Do that as much as Tony needs to stay healthy.”

“I regret ever becoming friends with you,” Tony whispers to Bruce as he leaves, and Bruce grins and mimes clicking a camera at him and Steve.

Tony wonders what photographs they’re going to be able to recover, when they get the world back. Or if there’s even going to be anything to recover.

 

 

 

 

 

The plan is in place, and Tony has sweated his way through making a shitty Iron Man duplicate. It’s different than his time in the cave, it’s more advanced and ends up looking like one of his last suits, just not coloured. Or, it will, when Tony presses the button that will command it to assemble around him. He can’t exactly make a suit and leave it lying around, unlike the cave there are no blind spots here, and there are too many guards.

On their last night before their escape- Tony hopes it’s their escape- they go back to the merger room and climb under the covers, like always. Tony curls into Steve on habit, and Steve circles an arm around Tony’s back.

“This is different than all the other times I’ve thought I could die tomorrow,” Tony muses out loud, five minutes after they’re both pretending to be asleep. “All of those times, we mostly had the upper hand. Now we’re kind of fucked.”

Steve nods, Tony feels it against the top of his head.

“It’s a long shot,” he says, and Tony smiles.

“You said that last time, and we lost.”

Steve pauses. “Shit, I don’t remember I said that. Did I?”

“Yep.”

“Let’s not repeat that,” Steve says, and Tony hums in agreement.

“Let’s not. Hey, do you think, realistically, that we have a chance of winning?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Honestly, I think it’s about 60/40.”

“Are we the 60 or the 40?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“Great.”

“Tony,” Steve says after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“We could definitely die tomorrow.”

“Well, yeah,” Tony says, looking up to meet his gaze and pausing when he sees the look in Steve’s eyes.

“I’m glad it was you,” Steve says, and Tony believes him, can’t do anything but when Steve is saying it like he is. “If this is how I get to spend my last few weeks alive, I’m glad it was with you. I feel like we- like we missed our shot, before.”

“What, before we got taken over by homicidal aliens?” Tony shifts so he’s more or less lying on Steve, chinning himself on Steve’s chest. “Yeah, I think that put a wrench in things.”

Steve laughs and Tony feels it vibrate through his chest as Steve adjusts his arms so they’re around Tony again.

“It was a good couple of weeks,” Tony admits. “Better than the last four years, at least.”

“It’d have to be pretty crappy to be worse than the last four years,” Steve points out, and Tony watches his mouth move. He’s kissed those lips, but always in front of guards.

Tony moves upwards so his arms are braced on either side of Steve’s head. He kisses him, Steve kissing back like he was waiting for Tony to do it. His arms tighten around Tony, moving downwards towards his waist.

“I hate to be cliché, but it is, maybe, our last night together,” Tony says when he pulls back, breath skimming Steve’s lips. “And this is the merging room, so we should- y’know, merge.”

Steve stares at him before his entire face creases in laughter. He laughs until he’s gasping. “That is the least romantic thing you’ve ever said.”

“You love me anyway,” Tony says, and Steve’s eyes go soft and warm. He runs a thumb down Tony’s cheek, down over his bottom lip.

“I do.”

Tony tilts their mouths together again, distantly thinking that he couldn’t have thought up a better last night on earth if he tried.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s not a great plan, Tony knows. It’s not even a very solid plan, but it’s the only one they’ve got, the last hope of the hopeless.

Natasha, Clint and Sam break into Thor’s holdings and release him, then his hammer, with the help of a few hundred thousand pissed off miners. There’s a lot of collateral, but they never thought there wouldn’t be.

As this is happening, Tony activates his suit and it wraps around him, Steve taking out as many guards as he can before being joined by Tony, and together they take down the rest. They fight their way down to the ground floor, which Tony only ever saw once when he was half-conscious and being dragged through it four years ago.

In the streets of the city that used to be New York, the Hulk is smashing Skri-Na soldiers into bloody smudges.

More forces are coming to subdue them, they know, so they get the hell out of dodge before they can catch them, Hulk jumping and Tony flying Steve until New York is no longer in sight. They wait twenty panic-ridden minutes until Natasha, Thor, Clint and Sam show up, an unconscious Rhodey propped up between Sam and Clint, being fussed over by Pepper, who is holding a knife in one hand and a Skri-Na gun in the other. Bruce starts to de-hulk when he sees them.

“Do we go ahead on foot, or did we get the ship,” Steve asks, and Natasha opens her mouth to answer just as the ship flies into view, dropping fast, smoke trailing from one of the engines.

“GET IN GET IN GET IN GET IN,” a Skri-Na Tony has never met but assumes is the rebel pilot Clint told him about screams, and they all pile in, Thor barely making it inside in time before the pilot is flying off.

“Are we being chased?”

“I ripped out the transmitter, but there’s no guarantee they don’t have a lock on us anyway,” the Skri-Na pants, holes in its neck flaring with each breath. “Ugh, you lot took your time.”

“Oh, sorry, we had no air evac, so it took longer than we thought,” Clint snaps at him, and they have a whisper-screaming argument as the others patch Rhodey up.

“What happened to the rest of the miners,” Tony asks, and Pepper looks over at him.

“We didn’t tell you? They’re back there.”

“We didn’t get them out?”

“How could we?”

“I thought we had- tunnels, or something!”

“They’re in the process of being made,” the Skri-Na calls from the pilot’s seat, grimacing as it reaches down to pull a shard of glass from its leg. “Gah.”

“So when are we going to get them out,” Tony asks, anger flaring. “God, they must be getting massacred!”

“Punished, but not killed,” the Skri-Na corrects him. “The breeders aren’t producing fast enough, so they’ve had to cut back on executions.”

Thor frowns at them. “Breeders?”

“You’ve missed a lot, we were never able to tell you everything,” Natasha says as she sits down next to him, taking a knife out from a strap on her leg and flipping it over in her hand. It should worry Tony, how comforting he finds it is, watching her do that again.

“You can fill each other in later,” the Skri-Na says. “Right now, we’re kind of busy. Got a revolution to organize.”

Steve nods gravely. “Do we have a timeline?”

It makes a non-committal noise. “Yeah, but you know how easily those things can get shaken up. We’re planning on getting the earth free in two years, but it could be five, could be ten. We just don’t know. Sorry, Cap.”

“This is not where I thought my life would go,” Rhodey says weakly, sweat beading on his forehead. Tony wipes it away with his sleeve, and Rhodey grunts gratefully.

“You and all of us, buddy,” Tony tells him. “Hey, did I mention how great it is to see everyone? Because it’s really great.”

“Aw, we missed you too,” Clint says, and suddenly they’re under an onslaught of weary greetings and shoulder-squeezes, and even one or two hugs.

Tony sits back against the wall, next to Steve, who puts his arm around Tony’s shoulder out of habit.

“You know you don’t have to do that anymore,” Bruce says, but he’s smiling smugly.

“We know,” Steve says. He reaches down to take Tony’s hand, and the rest of the group trades looks.

“Everyone owes me at least twenty bucks,” Bruce declares. “Nat, didn’t you bet your car?”

“My car got destroyed in the first wave, you’re going to have to settle for twenty bucks,” Natasha tells him dryly.

“Is money even a thing anymore,” Pepper wonders aloud.

Tony tilts his head back, listening to the calming voices of his friends and his team as they head towards some godforsaken rebel headquarters.  _This is not where I thought my life would go,_  he thinks, echoing Rhodey, but he finds himself grinning anyway when Steve’s thumb starts stroking circles into the back of his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> here's my [tumblr](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/).


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